


In the Words of Canadian Hall of Famer Bryan Adams: Baby, You're All That I Want

by ambitiousbutrubbish



Series: Country Roads, Take Me Home [2]
Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: M/M, alluded-to canon-typical violence, but that's just the way you do it when you're Stoic Country Folk, unhealthy coping mechanisms for sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24407146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitiousbutrubbish/pseuds/ambitiousbutrubbish
Summary: Wayne muses on love, and what it is and isn’t appropriate to do with your sweetie.
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Series: Country Roads, Take Me Home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747519
Comments: 16
Kudos: 177





	In the Words of Canadian Hall of Famer Bryan Adams: Baby, You're All That I Want

**Author's Note:**

> You probably shouldn’t use violence to deal with your Emotions but hey. What are you gonna do? Talk about them?? That’s a super, super hard no. 
> 
> (For realsies though you absolutely should just talk about them)
> 
> I don’t even know how to do a warning for this. Like, non-sexual kink negotiation? Except it’s not at all about kink. It’s more like: say you’re a boxer and you start dating someone who you’ve boxed against many times before. So you’ve got to discuss whether it’s ok to box against each other again, because you’re partners now, and there’s the domestic abuse question that comes into it. It’s like that.
> 
> Gotta say, I’m kinda nervous about this one, guys. Lotta dialogue. Potentially little dicey subject matter.

Ever since he can remember, Wayne’s had this _Thing_. It’s never been common, and it’s gotten rarer as he’s got older. But every now and then, Wayne’ll have these moods; like he’s got too much energy, like his bones are itching, and he needs to get it out all at once, quickly and violently.

When he was a kid, his parents would let him roll around in the dirt with the pups. He’d get his _feeling_ ; like he was going to scream and scream and that wasn’t _right_ , proper and polite kids didn’t do that, and Wayne was a good kid who always did the right thing. So he’d be jumpin’ up and onto his feet and clenching and unclenching his fists, setting his jaw punishingly hard so not a sound could make it out ‘cept maybe a low hum. And he’d be out the door, makin’ a racket with the pups growling and yapping until all the energy leached out of him and he could make his way back inside, covered in dirt and the occasional scratch where a pup got a little too excited. And he’d be able to sit relaxed and quiet for hours afterwards.

But then he met Darry. And Darry needed to be taught a lot of the things you were and weren’t supposed’ta do. Like, don’t be wishin’ on eyelashes and four-leaf clovers. Like, don’t fart in front of girls. Even if there’s nothing funnier’n a fart, which there ain’t, it’s just not polite. Katy’d never stand for it, and Wayne was raised with the good sense to trust in her opinions. Teachers said Darry was poorly socialised when they thought no one was listening, and because Wayne didn’t talk in class they always thought he weren’t listenin’. But he could see where they were comin’ from because Darry liked to chase ducks even though that’s fer babies, and the hick families were always close and helped each other out, but Wayne’d never met Darry before that fateful day at school because his dad kept his family isolated.

So Darry needed to be taught a lot of things and Wayne decided to be the one t’teach him, and Darry listened to what he was told about not makin’ wishes and not fartin’ in front of girls and he did it anyway. Because try as you might, you can’t take the awkward out of the boy. And secretly, Wayne wouldn’t want to. ‘Cause that’s what makes his best bud so comforting t’be around. 

But there was one lesson that Darry took to wholeheartedly, and that was fightin’. Never said no to a good scrap, the adrenaline that comes with a bit of rough and tumble. Something a man should know so he can look after the people he cares about, Wayne’s dad always said. Settle an argument quick and easy. So Wayne taught Darry how to make a fist and how to hold a stance, and where to hit t’make it hurt or t’draw it out. It became its own kind of release, like rollin’ about with the pups. But warmer. More, well, _human_. And when Wayne got that _feeling_ , he and Darry would go out to the barn and shove each other around until Wayne felt comfortable in his own skin.

His dad would always get this _look_ afterwards. One of his rare smiles, like he was proud that Wayne was finally doing some proper male bonding with someone his own age, and not just spending all his time with his little sister, doin’ whatever she wanted. And maybe it was a bit to that, but that weren’t even half the truth. Because Darry was the _only_ one that Wayne trusted to be with him like that. Except Katy, obviously, but you don’t hit girls. Not even your sister, now that you’ve started growin’ up big and she hasn’t. 

So, just Darry. Only Darry. His dad prob’ly wouldn’t’a liked that, if he had’ve known.

It’s still the truth. 

And therein lies the big fuckin' problem. Because it’d worked for years. Wayne’d get all keyed up, but not angry enough to go out and look for a scrap. And he’d tap Darry on the shoulder, and they’d go off and work it out. 

But you’re not supposed to fight with your partner. Arguments are a normal part of life, but not to the point of physical confrontation. It’s pretty much the first rule to dating: you don’t hit your sweetie. That’s degen behaviour, and worse. That’s a felony. And Wayne likes rules for the most part, when they’re good rules that protect people. But he don’t want to deal with his restlessness with anyone but Darry. Because that’s the way it’s s’posed’ta be.

And he can’t talk to Darry about it, because he can’t talk to him about the way that things have changed between them.'Specially because things don’t seem to have changed for Darry at all. 

Like, of course _things have changed_. Wayne’ll give Darry these little kisses now, just short pecks when they’re finished chorin’ or getting up from the dinner table. It’s like he saw his parents do; an acknowledgement that they’re sharing the same space, and that means somethin’ intimate for the both of them. Darry likes to take his gloves off when it’s cold out and shove his hands inside Wayne’s jacket like dexterous blocks of ice, just to see the way he squirms. And he’ll giggle and hold on tight and rest his forehead against whatever part of Wayne is closest, and Wayne can’t even be mad about it.

But. Darry doesn’t seem to be worried about these questions like Wayne is: this new way to look at themselves, together. These new boundaries. Not that Darry ain’t introspective or anything like that. He spends an awful lot of time sittin’ in silence and presumably thinkin’. But he just don’t let that much bother him.

Everyone can see that Wayne’s getting short-tempered. He’s taken to humming low in his throat as much as talking. He snapped at Glen the other day which yeah, ‘kay, Glen gets on his nerves sometimes when he won’t back off, but he’s not the kind of guy that you snap at. 

Katy had tried gettin’ him to sit down and talk about it, but she hates that shit as much as him. They’re action people.

So Wayne’d tried some action, hoped that some toe-curling would do the trick. But it turns out that for this, a fuck ain’t as good as a fight. Even if they’re two of the four Fs, and of the other two, one ain’t applicable to the situation, and the fourth just isn’t in Wayne’s vocabulary. 

It’s fuckin’ preoccupying, is what it is. Even in bed, Darry out like a light and curled up around him, heavy and warm and comfortable, his own body pleasantly sore. And he should be _relaxed_. Darry might not be one for touching overmuch during the day, but he cuddles like an absolute champ in his sleep and it’s _nice_ , just knowin’ he’s there. But still. Wayne ain’t really been sleeping.

********************

He’s never been shy about letting it be known that he’s looking for a sweetie for keeps. Wayne’s gettin’ back on the horse. Wayne’s lookin’ for love. If you don’t let people know then, like, how will they know?

And well. Darry’s _it_. Like. He’d be fuckin’ foolish to pretend otherwise.

But he’s never really thought about it that much: love. What it means to love someone. To be _in love_ with someone. It just sort of happened, and it was _good_ , and that was what mattered. 

Wayne heard it said once that love is when you look at someone, and you want to make them happy. Wanting to give them _anything_ , whatever you can. And maybe that’s right. Maybe there is no big mystery to it. Just trying for, _hoping for_ happiness, every single day.

And he wants that for Darry. Pretty much always has, since almost the first time he met him; since Darry was a kid with soft hands and a stutter. and they’d lie together out in the corn field on sunny days and play the word games Darry’s speech therapist taught him, ‘cause Wayne hated the look Darry got on his face when the other kids called him a pansy for sometimes strugglin’ to get a sentence out. He deserved to always be smiling, and Wayne wanted to do what he could to make that happen. 

And maybe the nature of it all is different, evolved into something else. But in the end, not that much has changed. Maybe he’s loved Darry for as long as he’s known him. 

********************

Darry’s waiting for him in the barn. He’s out of his coveralls, which is a welcome sight; just jeans and a short-sleeved checkered shirt, like he’s goin' out somewhere. ‘Cept that Wayne knows exactly what this is about, and for a brief moment he considers walking straight back to the house. But. Runnin’ never helped anything. 

“Wayne. How’r ya now?”

“Good’n’you?”

“Tell that to your face.” 

Wayne flinches and looks off to the side, like that ‘aint the biggest tell that he’s got. But he can’t stop it. Darry smokes in silence for a moment, lettin’ him compose himself. 

"I know what yer after.” Darry continues. “So let’s fuck this pig.”

Wayne takes a deep breath. “Not supposed to hit your sweetie.”

Darry’s eyes go soft, like they always do when Wayne calls him that. It’s 10-ply as hell, but Wayne only pulls it out on rare occasions specifically so that Darry never looses that look in his eye when he does. Like it’s real special. “It’s not the same when you’re both havin’ fun.”

Wayne’s not convinced. It’s exactly what he was scared of. “Okay Darry. Darry, okay. Okay Darry.” He swallows. “Yer tellin’ me that that’s not just the shit that abusers say?” 

It was a mistake. It’s all just a misunderstanding. It was mutual. The thought of it ever applying to him is enough to make Wayne be wantin’ to walk off into a blizzard in nothin’ but his birthday suit, and lettin’ the elements deal with him as fit. 

“Not sure I like what yer implyin’” Darry says, and his eyebrows draw together and he sticks out his bottom lip a little, confused and upset. Wayne’s finding it a little hard to look at him and have this conversation.

“Not implyin’ nothing” he says. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Darry’s dart, slowly burning itself down where it hangs neglected at his side. He stares at that instead. “Alls I’m sayin’ is that you hear ‘em say that it was just fer fun.”

“Well, ‘kay.” Darry’s words are slow and drawn out. “But alls I’m sayin’ is that it’s good fun for me. Is it good fun for you?”

“Yep.” There’s no question of that.

“Alright then.” Darry smiles, and it’s just a little one, but Wayne feels instantly more at ease. “So we’re both consenting adults here. We just need t’talk it out.”

“Lay out some ground rules?"

“Right.” Darry’s still smiling. “What you got for me then?”

Wayne thinks about it for a moment. Darry goes back to smoking while he waits, which considering how Wayne was staring at his dart as a sort of defence mechanism, he’s suddenly just a little distracted from the task at hand. “Stop at the first sign of blood. Don’t need that getting everywhere. It’s unhygienic.” 

Darry exhales and waves his hand around as if to say “of course” and Wayne has to tear his gaze away to look at Darry’s whole face rather than just where that dart’s goin’, else he’ll never get through this. 

“Tap out when you’re done.”

“What about when you’re done?”

“Ain’t never happened that way good buddy, and you know it.” Darry laughs. “No going for the face or below the belt. Body shots only.”

Darry nods. “Always did it that way anyway.” He says, and that’s true enough, but if they’re doin’ rules, it’s important t’say ‘em all out loud, make sure there’s no misunderstanding. “Don’t know what you’re so worried about.”

“Darry.” Wayne growls, and Darry looks at him through his lashes, already apologetic. And Wayne knows he’s just tryin’ to lighten the mood, but it’s a real worry for him; that he’d hurt his sweetie. “This ain’t a joke.”

“I know, big shoots.” Darry’s tone is soft, and almost too careful for Wayne to handle. “You’re just tryin’ to make sure yer doin’ right by me, and I appreciate it. But you gotta trust me when I say it’s okay.” He takes another drag. “I enjoy it, you enjoy it. So let’s have a scrap.”

“I do trust you.” Wayne says, and it’s the truth, because that’s the whole _point_ , the whole reason behind everything here.

Darry goes all soft again, and he smiles. The big one; eye crinkles, tongue trapped between his teeth. The one that makes Wayne feel almost uncomfortably tight. Like everything he feels is about to explode out of him, rip him apart at the seams so that every piece of soft fluff that he keeps inside is strewn about for all the world to see. And for a moment, he think’s Darry’s about the call the whole thing off for some toe-curling. Which. Wayne wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“Well?” He asks instead around his dart, and Wayne stalks over and grabs it out of his mouth, takes a long drag, all the way down to the filter so as it’s not a waste.

“Good stuff.”

“Good enough.” Darry replies, still grinning.

This close, Wayne can just lean in to kiss him, so he does. Just like he would before they get down to any other sort of business. And for the first time in maybe forever, he feels truly, wholly himself.

**Author's Note:**

> The little bit about love was inspired by The Midnight Gospel, episode 2.


End file.
